


Near Miss

by brightephemera



Series: Ruth!verse [8]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Danger, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 16:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7276009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightephemera/pseuds/brightephemera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watcher Two puts up with Wynston's advances day in and day out. It's a good thing he's good at his job or she might have to get really upset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Near Miss

**Author's Note:**

> Circa 5 ATC, I think, so five years before the game starts. Wynston is 20.

Agent Wynston, having listened to his briefing in attentive silence, shot Watcher Two a crooked grin. "So what do you say? Drinks before I go? Dancing?"

Watcher Two cleared her throat and put on her best stern face. As usual. "As I'm sure I've mentioned, I don't get close to my agents because my agents have a habit of getting killed."

"I can't imagine the idiot who would get himself killed when he could be coming home to you. I would move worlds in their orbits. And probably will." Before she had to swat him down, again, he stood up, saluted, and made for the door. "I'll report when I have something."

The mission was firmly within Imperial space but fraught with its own dangers. He had three days to get a planetary politician to change his tune - by any means available, including replacement. So when a Sith lord and his twenty best friends stormed the palace and locked down every entrance for their own ends...well, it solved the problem for Intelligence, and for the low cost of one agent in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wouldn't be the first time a Sith had provided unforeseen results at unpredictable cost.

Watcher Two had analyses to run, things to do, but she had always been good at multitasking, and one of those tasks was wondering just how the irrepressible Agent Wynston had faced his death at the hands of Sith apprentices. He deserved better than that, but their line of work was notoriously bad at recognizing the deserving.

And it followed her. Two had learned that when tracking certain operatives it paid to leave five or ten percent of the probability to them doing something inventive on the spot. Wynston was firmly on the high end of that estimate. But that night when she retired, having received no news but a higher death toll from the palace, that ten percent sat and looked at the other ninety percent, and the other ninety percent was very large.

And yet the following evening the little Chiss was lounging in the doorway to the Imperial Intelligence ops room, not a hair out of place.

"Wynston!" she said intelligently.

"Madam," he said, beaming, "you are the best-looking thing I've seen in...well...ever."

"Did you sustain a head injury?" she said, as coolly as she could while still smiling. "If it's that bad I'll call for a medic."

"No need." That slight turn, a tempering of his smile, the afterthought of professionalism, all of it mixed in with the steady familiarity of his behavior and mis-. "So where do I report to for debrief?"

"Come with me." It was dangerous to let him think he was getting special treatment. But she just had to know how he'd gotten out of this one.


End file.
